


Priceless

by Qwertzu



Series: A pahkan in love [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, M/M, courting, inspired by Mastercard ads, mafia, mobster Viktor, newspaper vendor Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 20:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12638193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qwertzu/pseuds/Qwertzu
Summary: “With compliments from Mr Nikiforov.”[A bouquet of autumn flowers: $5]“Sir, you have the wrong person,” Yuuri protested, attempting to give the bouquet back.The man shook his head. “You’re the right one.”“I don’t even know a Mr Nikiforov!”The bodyguard shrugged and disappeared in the crowd. Yuuri carefully placed the beautiful bouquet aside and waited for the man to come back. He never did.





	Priceless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saniika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saniika/gifts).



> This brilliant idea comes from Saniika, I only put it into words.

“Thank you, madam,” Yuuri smiled faintly, handing over the newspaper. He tried not to think about the number of yet unsold copies.

He held back a sigh as his eyes once again strayed to the café across the street. He wished he could afford it—to waste time just sitting in a chair sipping coffee, talking to a friend or actually reading newspaper instead of selling it. He imagined how he and Phichit would dress up in nice suits and pretend to discuss the latest development on the stock exchange or something equally vague using scholarly words which they would make up on the fly...

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a new customer, a man so large Yuuri had to tilt his head back to look at him. Everything about him screamed _bodyguard_. He was holding a bunch of flowers, which he handed to Yuuri, much to the newsie’s shock.

“With compliments from Mr Nikiforov.”

**_[A bouquet of autumn flowers: $5]_ **

“Sir, you have the wrong person,” Yuuri protested, attempting to give the bouquet back.

The man shook his head. “You’re the right one.”

“I don’t even know a Mr Nikiforov!”

The bodyguard shrugged and disappeared in the crowd. Yuuri carefully placed the beautiful bouquet aside and waited for the man to come back. He never did.

 

* * *

 

“I tried to tell him he had the wrong guy but he wouldn’t listen!”

“Well, maybe you _are_ the right guy,” Phichit argued.

“Phichit, why would someone I don’t even know send me flowers?”

“I don’t know, why does a man send flowers to somebody? Because he _likes them_ , that’s why,” his best friend said, rolling his eyes.

Yuuri shook his head sceptically, suppressing a wry smile. He knew he wasn’t particularly attractive, with his chubby cheeks and exotic eyes. Why would anyone be interested in courting him?

 

* * *

 

Gust of cold wind made Yuuri shiver. He bitterly regretted forgetting to take his gloves but he couldn’t afford to put his hands in his pockets to warm them. He plastered a fake smile on his face and kept offering Gazette to the passers-by.

A hulking man in a business suit approached him but instead of asking for the newspaper he offered Yuuri a pair of elegant gloves.

“With compliments from Mr Nikiforov.”

**_[Hand sewn cashmere-lined dress gloves: $160]_ **

“Are you sure they are for me? I don’t even know what Mr Nikiforov looks like!”

“Yes, they’re for you.”

They looked warm and soft and more expensive than Yuuri’s rent. “I’m sorry but I can’t accept them.”

The man sighed. “Look,” he said, lowering his voice, “Boss will be very displeased with me if you refuse them. He will probably think you don’t like the colour or something and he’ll make me go buy you a different pair. Please don’t make my life difficult and take them.”

When Yuuri made no move to do so, he put the gloves on the pile of newspapers and left.

Yuuri didn’t want to put them on but it was cold and his fingers felt icy. _Just for a few hours_ , he promised himself as he slipped them on. He would take them off when he came home, make sure they were clean, and return them to the mysterious Mr Nikiforov at the earliest opportunity.

 

* * *

 

The newspaper vendor looked downright miserable standing under the tiny roof. He seemed more interested in keeping the stack of newspapers dry than his own comfort. Nobody paid him any heed as they rushed by, eager to escape the annoying rain. Viktor opened his umbrella and made his way to the object of his fascination. The newsie looked up in surprise as he approached, and Viktor’s breath caught in his throat. The man was even more beautiful up close than he was from afar. Making sure to shield him with his umbrella Viktor handed him a box of chocolates.

**_[Assorted deluxe chocolates: $20]_ **

“Let me guess—With compliments from Mr Nikiforov?”

Viktor felt a surprisingly genuine smile spread over his face. “Yes.” His eyes flickered to the thin worn gloves the newsie was wearing. His smile fell. “You didn’t like my gloves?”

The vendor blinked in surprise. “You’re Mr Nikiforov!?”

“Call me Viktor, please.”

“Viktor. I’m Kat—Yuuri Katsuki,” he offered his hand. Instead of shaking it, Viktor bent down and kissed his knuckles.

**_[Seeing that lovely blush: Priceless]_ **

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yuuri.”

“Likewise. About those gloves, Viktor—” he reached into his pocket and held them out for Viktor to take. “They are lovely and I really appreciate your thoughtfulness but they must have cost a fortune and I don’t have anything to offer you in return. I can’t accept them.”

“Ah, that’s not true. There is something you can give me in return,” Viktor disagreed with a gentle smile. “Like the pleasure of your company. Two hours of your time—that’s all I ask for. May I treat you to a coffee?” He gestured to the café across the street from where he used to observe the no–longer–nameless newsie.

“I’m very sorry, Mist—Viktor, but I must sell this stack or I’ll lose my job and then I’ll be homeless,” he pointed at the pile of slightly damp newspapers despondently.

Viktor was kind enough not to point out that the only thing Yuuri might have a chance to sell in this dreadful weather were umbrellas. Instead he asked: “Who do you work for?”

“Chase Winston.”

“Winston actually works for me, so don’t worry about it, alright?”

Strictly speaking, that was not quite true _yet_. But by tomorrow Chase Winston would receive an offer he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

“Alright,” Yuuri smiled at him shyly.

**_[There are some things money can’t buy. For everything else there’s mafia.]_ **


End file.
